


Never Lost, Always Found

by TeddyKrueger



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, I'm just a teddy bear with a keyboard, If your soulmate loses something, My artist came up with this concept, Pining Yachi, Soulmate AU, You find it, kiyoyachi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 20:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30027387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyKrueger/pseuds/TeddyKrueger
Summary: “When you lose things, like your toys or your special erasers, where do you think they go?” her mom asks.Hitoka looks down at the floor in thought. “If mom can’t find them, that means they disappeared, right?”“Right. So if they disappeared,” her mom hides one of the pencils behind her back, “then that means they have to appear somewhere else, and someone else will find whatever you lost. It works the same way for you. Sometimes you find things your soulmate lost.”Hitoka’s head jolts upward, her eyes wide. “Like a magic witch!”Her mom smiles and rubs Hitoka’s head. “Just like a magic witch. One that’s your best friend in the whole world.”
Relationships: Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45
Collections: Haikyuu WLW Bang





	Never Lost, Always Found

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this soulmate AU for the Haikyuu WLW Bang 2021! Thank you so much to my artist [@kyeonwa](https://twitter.com/kyeonwa) for suggesting the concept ([their art is here](https://twitter.com/kyeonwa/status/1370917237012398085)). We kinda flipped the whole "writer makes concept" thing since this was a pinch, but it was hella fun.
> 
> Thank you as well to my last-minute beta, [Jane](https://twitter.com/kurokenns)! You have no idea how much I value your services.

Hitoka holds two colored pencils, both with the word “bubblegum” inscribed on the side in metallic gold script. Both are only a couple inches from the nib, having been sharpened over and over again to maintain the sharpness only the most precise artists can achieve. If they were mixed into the pile of colored pencils strewn all over the carpet, Hitoka wouldn’t notice the difference.

But her mom had only bought _one_ set of 64 colored pencils for her birthday, not _two_. Hitoka would know since she had read the box multiple times before daring to open the multicolored contents. She leans over to check the list one more time, but it remains unchanged. She’s not supposed to have more than one of each color.

“Mom?” she says, voice laced with concern.

Her mom turns her slightly to indicate she’s listening, but her focus remains on her computer screen. “Yes, darling?”

Hitoka holds up the offending pencils. “I have two.”

“Two what?”

“Pencils.”

Her mom glances behind her for a second. “I can see that, but I’m not sure I see the issue.”

“My box only said I get _one_ bubblegum pink, but I have _two_.” Hitoka glares at them, her lips pursed the way her mom’s get when she’s negotiating with a demanding client.

Her mom finally senses the urgency of Hitoka’s situation and swivels around in her chair to face her. She crosses her arms, tapping a finger in thought. “Well, if it’s not yours, then it must be your soulmate’s.”

“Soulmate?” Hitoka says it slowly, letting it roll off her tongue in two distinct syllables. Her first grade teacher taught everyone to practice new words this way. If they don’t say the word, then they’ll never remember it right.

Her mom joins her on the floor and gestures for the pencils with her hand. Hitoka relinquishes them, placing them down gingerly as if the impostor pencil might disappear in a puff of smoke, disproving it ever existed in the first place.

Her mom holds up one of the pencils, the one that’s closer to needing a replacement. “This is yours, right?”

Hitoka nods.

“Okay, so if this is your pencil,” she wiggles the other pencil between two fingers, “then this is someone else’s pencil.”

Well, _of course_ it’s someone else’s pencil. It only sort of looks like Hitoka’s pencil, but she already said it’s not. She crosses her arms, the only show of indignance a proper first grader can show without being labeled a baby.

“When you lose things, like your toys or your special erasers, where do you think they go?” her mom asks.

Hitoka looks down at the floor in thought. “If mom can’t find them, that means they disappeared, right?”

“Right. So if they disappeared,” her mom hides one of the pencils behind her back, “then that means they have to appear somewhere else, and someone else will find whatever you lost. It works the same way for you. Sometimes you find things your soulmate lost.”

Hitoka’s head jolts upward, her eyes wide. “Like a magic witch!”

Her mom smiles and rubs Hitoka’s head. “Just like a magic witch. One that’s your best friend in the whole world.”

_Best friend in the whole world?_

“But I already have you!” Hitoka says.

Her mom shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Well, they’ll be your other best friend.” She tugs lightly at the silver band she keeps on her necklace. “Like dad was my best friend.”

A magic witch. Hitoka’s best friend can make objects appear and disappear. They can probably fight crime and save the universe all in one day. They have to be in disguise—like a superhero, but way cooler.

Hitoka gasps loudly, then whispers, “Does this mean _I’m_ a witch, too?”

Her mom chuckles and pulls her into her lap to squeeze her tight. “Well, maybe you are, but more than anything, now you know your best friend is out there, and it looks like,” she hands the pencils back, “you two have the same favorite color.”

Hitoka holds them close to her heart. For such tiny pencils, they’ve expanded the world past the signs marking the borders of her little town. Somewhere out there, her best friend is missing her bubblegum pencil, not knowing that her soulmate is keeping it safe for her. 

Hitoka imagines another girl by her side, scribbling into a coloring book with intense concentration. Instead of just one duplicate, each pencil has a pair of its own. Double the rainbow.

Later that night, Hitoka places the second pencil in a small wooden box she hides underneath her bed. She’s never put anything inside before, but a magical artifact sounds like a great start.

  


* * *

  


The girl in front of Hitoka must be speaking, but Hitoka can’t understand a word past the static roaring in her head. She instead relies on her visual senses, all of them simultaneously telling her to stay exactly where she is for the rest of time, but also to abandon high school and maybe Miyagi Prefecture altogether.

Two of Hitoka’s male classmates stop to stare at the mystery girl. One whispers to the other, earning him a punch on the shoulder. The other boy blushes crimson from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

Hitoka’s ears start working for a moment as a group of second years walk by, one of them squealing, then loudly whispering, “Isn’t that Shimizu-senpai? Gosh, she’s as gorgeous as always.”

A third year. A _third year_ is talking to Hitoka. The second years are right. With the girl’s shoulder-length dark hair, her stormy gray eyes made larger by the lenses of her pink glasses, and the mole beneath her lip, how could she be perceived as anything less than beautiful? What does she need from Hitoka? It would have to be important considering they’ve never met before.

 _Oh, shoot,_ Hitoka thinks. _I should listen._

“Well?” the girl says.

A question. One Hitoka can’t answer because she had been too focused on the way the girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Hitoka can’t say _no_. Her mom taught her to take opportunities as they come, and “no” just means she’s rejecting the chance for change.

“Okay!” Hitoka blurts out.

The girl’s eyes shine. She leans forward and grasps Hitoka’s hands, causing Hitoka to stiffen. “Really? Thank you so much! I’ll come get you right after school.”

The girl rushes off down the hallway and, wow, even the way she runs shows off her perfect posture. Hitoka stares at her form—along with the rest of the first years—as she disappears down the stairwell. Only when she’s gone does Hitoka notice she’s holding a blank form for the Boys’ Volleyball Club as well as a rose gold pen, the kind of pen she’s only ever seen in luxury stationery shops on occasional trips to Sendai. Not the kind she and her classmates buy from the convenience store on the way to school.

The idea of filling out the form with this pen in particular fills Hitoka with dread. She’ll have to apologize for a million years, forehead pressed into the linoleum floor, if she manages to use the last of the ink. She returns to her classroom and puts them both in her backpack for safe keeping. Hitoka can search for her on the first floor where all the third year classrooms are. The pen will be returned. No damage will be done.

Okay, maybe she’ll have to apologize _a little bit_. She did accidentally steal her pen.

The bell chimes and Hitoka shoots up, throwing her backpack around her shoulders and tightening the straps. During P.E., she tends to collapse before she can complete even _four_ laps around the track, but this is a matter of life or death. If the girl is as popular as Hitoka’s classmates made it seem, then slighting her would be the end of her high school career. Likely the students and the faculty will hate her, and then she won’t be able to sit with anyone at lunch or get a good recommendation for a university in Sendai, which means her mom will disown her and–

“Yachi!” one of her classmates calls. “Someone’s looking for you.”

This is it. This is where it all ends. She’s going to yell at her in front of everyone.

Could she sneak out the other door? No. With the way she ran earlier, the girl would probably catch Hitoka within a millisecond of attempting an escape. Could she tell her classmate to tell her she’s not here? Hitoka glances over only to see the girl peeking into the classroom. Their eyes lock and Hitoka sighs. 

_Say goodbye to your high school life, Hitoka,_ she salutes internally.

She walks like a robot, same arm and same leg swinging back and forth at the same time. The closer she gets, the slower she moves, as if the wind-up mechanism on her back didn’t get twisted enough to make it to her destination. Her classmate raises an eyebrow, but, without question, she shrugs and leaves Hitoka to her doom.

Before the other girl can lay into her, Hitoka squeezes her eyes closed and bows parallel to the floor. “I’m so sorry I took your pen! I didn’t mean to! You rushed off and I didn’t have a chance to–” she gasps and straightens up. “Not to say that it’s your fault! I should’ve gone after you the second I realized and–”

The girl giggles. Hitoka isn’t sure if she would prefer this or yelling.

“So that’s where it was,” the girl says. “I was planning to check my classroom, but I didn’t want to leave you waiting. Lucky for me, that means I won’t have to go looking after practice. Thanks.”

Hitoka’s mouth makes a small “o” shape. Not only is she not mad, but she’s _thanking_ Hitoka. All the luck in the world must have collected itself into this one moment because Hitoka swears she’s been blessed by an–

She shakes her head. _Calm down, you weirdo._

“Are you alright?”

Hitoka nods sharply. “A-OK!”

_Any other word would have been great, Hitoka._

The girl smiles, but her eyes still look concerned. She checks her watch and it seems her attention gets completely rerouted. “We’ve gotta go. Practice starts in ten minutes.” She holds out a hand for Hitoka. “How do you feel about running?”

_Never say no to change._

“I love it.”

For the first time, Hitoka learns what it’s like to love the gaps in someone else’s fingers. As they run down the hallway, the girl calls over her shoulder, “Oh, by the way, my name is Shimizu. Shimizu Kiyoko.”

Hitoka grins and squeezes tighter. “I’m Yachi. Yachi Hitoka.”

(When she fills out the form to officially join the Karasuno boys’ volleyball team as their second manager, she does so with Shimizu-senpai’s pen, making sure to write as lightly as possible to save ink. When she gives it back, their fingers brush against each other.

Hitoka spends the entire walk to their lockers apologizing.)

  


* * *

  


Hitoka excels in her academics, but everyone has a flaw or two. Hers is biology. There are a million facts to remember _combined_ with math and at times it becomes overwhelming. One time when Shimizu-senpai drops by her classroom to pick her up for practice—a new habit Hitoka won’t stop gushing to her mom about—she peers over Hitoka’s shoulder and points to one of her practice problems.

“Your punnett square looks slightly off,” she says, her breath tickling the tips of Hitoka’s ears.

Hitoka puts her head down on the table and mumbles a request.

“What was that?”

She turns her head to the side, squishing her cheek against her workbook. “C-could you maybe…help me study?”

“That’s all?” Shimizu-senpai asks.

“It’s okay if you don’t–”

“I do,” she says, and Hitoka swears it’s softer than she’s used to hearing it, even when she’s praising the boys for a good game. 

“We can...go to my house?”

Shimizu-senpai nods. “Let’s go, then.”

Somewhere along the way, between the jokes and telling each other about their day, Hitoka realizes she’s walking home with _the_ Shimizu. She glances down at the space between their hands, over and over. Once, she even extends her pinky, just enough that they could potentially brush together. Maybe Shimizu-senpai will intertwine their fingers together, only releasing Hitoka when they need to start studying.

Hitoka shakes her head, reminding herself her imagination is only that. Being friends with Shimizu-senpai is all she can ask for. Besides, she probably has a soulmate just as gorgeous as her, someone who’s kind and smart, and has a future brighter than the gleam of the court floor after the boys have finished wiping it down.

She laughs to herself. _Magical witch, huh?_

“Yachi?”

Hitoka looks up, her chin resting in her hand which is propped up on the low table in her room. She doesn’t even remember getting here in the first place. “Hmm?”

“You’ve been drawing a heart in the same spot in your notebook for the last minute or so,” Shimizu-senpai explains. “I thought you might be a little lost.”

Hitoka nods. Definitely lost.

Shimizu-senpai stands from her spot across from Hitoka and comes to sit at her side. “Where are you stuck?”

_I’m stuck wondering when I’ll be a bother to you. I’m stuck thinking about when you’ll meet your perfect soulmate. I’m stuck on the edge of telling you I like you and running away like I always do._

Hitoka points at a question, one of the few she already knows she can answer. “Just this one.”

Shimizu-senpai walks her through the answer, giving her hints to lead her to the correct solution instead of giving it to her. She’s even a great teacher. Hitoka accidentally sighs, which she follows up with clapping both hands against her mouth.

“Someone’s tired, hmm?” Shimizu-senpai says, laughing.

 _Better than her thinking I’m bored,_ Hitoka thinks.

Shimizu-senpai looks up at the pink clock hanging above Hitoka’s desk in the corner. “Oh. It’s getting late. I should go before it gets dark. My parents worry.”

Hitoka nods. Instead of panicking about keeping Shimizu-senpai back, she stays quiet. She can’t bring herself to say anything right now. Her brain is a little fuzzy and not just from studying.

Shimizu-senpai begins to pack up, but she pauses after the silence has gone on for a few moments too long. She picks up her rose gold pen from the table and holds it out to Hitoka. “Here.”

Hitoka tilts her head. “Your pen? Why?”

“You seem nervous about your exams, so think of it as a good luck charm,” Shimizu-senpai says.

“But what if I lose it? I don’t want to take something so valuable from you and then it runs out of ink or– _oh god_ what if it snaps because I’m holding it too hard.” Hitoka sits up straight, eyes wide. “What if I suddenly learn how to use spells like a mage or something and I set the pen on _fire_.”

Shimizu-senpai laughs, this time it’s deep and full, the way she laughs during a particularly tough game against Seijoh or Nekoma. It’s triumphant and beautiful and Hitoka doesn’t know if she’s earned the right to see her like this, but she can’t bring herself to turn away. 

“If you set my pen on fire, then I think we have other things to worry about,” Shimizu-senpai says. “Like finding you a magical witch to help you harness your powers.”

Hitoka pinches the fabric of Shimizu-senpai’s track jacket, right on the wrist. 

“Yachi?”

_I think I..._

“Thanks.”

(The next week goes by in a blur, Kageyama-kun and Hinata dead-eyed the entire time and Suga-san cackling at their misery. Hitoka only manages to pull through with the help of a pen given good luck by a girl more magical than any human should be.

Or at least Hitoka likes to think so.)

  


* * *

  


Hinata taught Hitoka the meaning of working hard for what she wants, surpassing the expectations of those who hadn’t expected more from her than perfect grades and a kind disposition. 

Right now he’s teaching her that single-minded dedication isn’t always the best way to plunge through life.

“His shoes got switched and we have to go warm up…” Suga-san says.

“What are we going to do?” Yamaguchi-kun asks.

Hitoka finds herself standing there, unable to do much of anything. It’s impossible for Hinata to go find it and then run all the way back. If he doesn’t warm up, then this next match is going to go poorly for everyone involved. Do they have someone to replace him for the time being?

“I’ll go,” Shimizu says. She holds out her clipboard and pen to Hitoka. “Keep it safe, okay?”

Without another word she runs off to find the kid who accidentally picked up Hinata’s bag. Tanaka-san and Noya-san wax poetic about her in the corner, while Hitoka stares at the items in her hands. It’s almost like the first time they met, but this time instead of forgetfulness, Shimizu-senpai left these precious items with Hitoka on purpose. Hitoka has only been part of the team for such a short time, yet she feels like Shimizu-senpai has given her the ultimate stamp of approval.

She clutches the clipboard and nods. “Time to go.”

Hitoka watches alongside the coaches as the time on the clock dwindles. Hinata is warming up as much as he can with bare feet, but he can’t participate the same way everyone else is. He can’t get hurt. Not now.

Just as Hitoka looks up to the bleachers to check for her, she appears above, leaning partway over the edge of the partition. Before Hitoka can call her name, Shimizu-senpai flings Hinata-kun’s bag over the side. When she catches it, she stares up in awe at this girl. She won’t be spiking or blocking on the court today, but she is the hero of this narrative, even if no one will remember her name the way the team always will.

Shimizu-senpai raises a fist in the air in victory. Hitoka echoes the sentiment in her heart.

  


* * *

  


Tanaka-san and Noya-san clutch each other, tears streaming down their faces. Saeko cackles and takes a video of them, telling them to smile at the camera.

“Shut up, neesan!” Tanaka-san yells. “Let us mourn in peace!”

“Kiyoko-saaaaaaan!” is all Noya-san can manage.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough,” Daichi-san says, clapping them both on the back. “None of us are going anywhere far.”

Suga-san ruffles their hair, his grin so wide he has to close his eyes. “Speak for yourself. A Sendai education awaits.”

Noya-san sniffles. “Daichi-saaaaan. Suga-saaaaaan.”

Hitoka giggles alongside Alisa as they watch the spectacle. While to Alisa this is a sight she was only privy to at Nationals, Hitoka is used to her team’s antics. Even Kageyama-kun and Hinata manage to argue in the background despite them holding hands. Tsukushima-kun and Yamaguchi-kun whisper judgmentally to each other, snickering openly.

“You know,” Alisa starts, “I feel like I missed out on getting to know these four. I think Lev would’ve had a fun time playing with them.”

Hitoka hums. “I bet it was fun to play against them, though.”

It occurs to Hitoka that Alisa mentioned four people, but she can only count three senpais. 

Hitoka looks around at the small gathering of parents, siblings, and classmates, searching for dark hair and pink glasses, but she’s unsuccessful. She digs around in her backpack for her cell phone, intending to call Shimizu-senpai, but she catches sight of a rose gold pen in her backpack. She pulls it out and stares at it. She doesn’t remember taking it from her at any point today.

“Isn’t that Shimizu-senpai’s?” a sniffling Tanaka-san asks.

“Yeah! That’s hers!” Noya-san says. “But I thought she went looking for it. Said she lost it.”

Their entire group stops for a moment. Then, simultaneously, their eyes all turn to Hitoka. 

Her heart races, faster and faster until her breath threatens to give out on her altogether. Shimizu-senpai lost her pen. It’s in Hitoka’s bag. She never _gave it to her_ , so there’s no way…is there? 

“She’s at the gym,” Suga-san says, nudging her shoulder. “Go.”

Hitoka bows parallel to the dirt, almost throwing herself forward in the process. “Yes!”

She sprints to the gym. Despite the campus being smaller than even the main street of their small town, it feels like her legs carry her nowhere at all. Her strides aren’t nearly long enough, her momentum not nearly fast enough, and yet it reminds her of the time Hinata dragged her through the streets to find her mom, to tell her she wanted to become someone for the sake of herself and not for anyone else. She channels the Shimizu-senpai who hustled through Tokyo just to make sure her team could fight their way to victory despite the odds.

Hitoka races toward her senpai, her best friend, and her _soulmate._

Cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, and a number of them settle on the rooftops, painting the campus a pale pink. Even the dirt suddenly seems clean and beautiful. And when Hitoka finally reaches Shimizu-senpai, the color only accentuates the dark hues of her eyes, her hair, her uniform.

She stands up straight from where she was leaning against the gym door and clasps her hands behind her back. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

_Wait._

“You knew?” Hitoka asks.

Shimizu-senpai shrugs. “I had my suspicions.”

They stand in silence, staring at each other from across the expanse that could only be as large as Hinata lying down. Hitoka looks down at the pen in her hands and holds it out.

Shimizu-senpai approaches slowly, as if perfectly aware that Hitoka might bolt like a fawn without its mother. Instead of taking the pen, she closes Hitoka’s hands around it. “It’s yours to keep. I don’t think I have to worry about losing it anymore if my soulmate is keeping it safe right by my side.”

Hitoka smiles, brighter than Hinata’s hair or the lights in a stadium. Shimizu-senpai giggles at her expression and cups her face. “I’m hoping that means you’re not opposed, then?”

Hitoka leans into her touch. “I can’t say no to you.”

“Good.”

Shimizu-senpai leans in, brushing her nose against Hitoka’s before pressing her lips against hers. Her chapstick tastes of peach and Hitoka knows she’ll have to get some for herself next time she gets the chance. Or maybe Shimizu-senpai will just lose some for her, letting it magically appear where Hitoka can find it, just like her own personal magical witch.

(“By the way, what’s your favorite colored pencil color?” 

“Bubblegum pink. Why?”)


End file.
